


Out of Hiding

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2018: Hurt/Comfort edition [7]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Part 3 of 3; as Napoleon continues to recover, Illya still blames himself for allowing it to happen.





	Out of Hiding

_Illya was working on dismantling more THRUSH explosives; time was running out. Napoleon was somewhere in the building; he had to hurry…!_

_But nothing seemed to be working—the wires, the bits and pieces… They all seemed to be a jumbled mess, and any and all knowledge that Illya had about demolitions seemed to be slipping away from him like the sands in an hourglass._

_“I have to help Napoleon!” he gasped, seeing his partner running down the halls towards him. “I have to stop this--”_

_The timer hit zero, and explosions went off all around the corridor, enveloping his partner. Illya’s heart stopped as Napoleon vanished into the heart of the blast, screaming in agony until he screamed no more…_

“NO!” Illya cried, bolting awake.

There was a yelp from the cat as she was awakened by Illya’s cry; Baba Yaga looked at him, her tail twitching for a moment before she chirruped and sat back down beside Napoleon’s broken leg.

“Illya…?” Napoleon murmured, slowly coming awake. “What happened? What time is it?”

“It’s 3:30 in the morning, Napoleon,” Illya sighed. “Nothing happened; go back to sleep.”

Napoleon wasn’t convinced, and he reached over, touching Illya’s shoulder.

“You had a bad dream,” he said, knowingly. “I know the signs—I have them enough times, after all.”

Illya grumbled under his breath; he wasn’t about to admit it. And, anyway, it wasn’t the dream itself that upset him—it was reality. He knew that it was the guilt he had over his failure at stopping the real explosion in the THRUSH facility—the reason why Napoleon was out of commission for two months with a broken leg after the explosion had caused part of the wall to fall on him. He was fortunate not to have fared worse, but Illya could not forgive himself for allowing his partner to be injured so badly.

“Illya,” Napoleon said, drawing an arm around him. “What happened?”

“You died in the dream,” Illya said. “That’s all there is to it.”

“I figured that much. Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“…That’s alright,” Napoleon said. He said nothing more, but still held Illya close to him, which didn’t help with the guilt he was feeling—at all.

“How can you forgive me so easily when I am the reason for your condition!?” Illya blurted out, after a moment.

“My condition--? Illya, you didn’t break my leg!”

“I might as well have done so,” he replied, bitterly. “I was not able to stop those explosions from going off—the wall fell on you, and now your leg is broken. How is it not my fault!?”

“Neither of us knew that THRUSH had booby-trapped that facility with those explosive charges!” Napoleon reminded him. “By the time we had found out, there were only five minutes left!”

“Then I should have insisted that you leave while I tried to deactivate them,” Illya said. “There was no excuse for my not insisting upon it.”

“…You think I would have left, even if you had insisted?” Napoleon asked, softly.

Illya blinked.

“You would not have,” he admitted.

“So we’d have been right back here, like this,” Napoleon said.

Illya considered this and conceded.

“Yet, I cannot help but feel that I am partly to blame,” he admitted. “Two whole months, you have to be here, bored and recovering. There must have been something I could have done to prevent this!”

“You saved my life by making sure I stayed conscious, even when all I wanted to do was pass out again from the pain,” Napoleon admitted. “Illya, I love you. And just as you find it difficult to forgive yourself, so would I have if I hadn’t stayed behind with you. I made the choice to stay with you. A broken leg is worth knowing that you were alright—I’d never regret that.”

“I love you, too,” Illya said, now drawing his arms around Napoleon in a hug.

Napoleon responded by hugging Illya with both arms, as well, and Illya forced himself to try to let go of his guilt.

Napoleon was here, alive, and still loyal and by his side. And once he was fully healed, he’d be running by his side once again.

Illya could live with that—and he knew they both could.


End file.
